


No Longer Suffering for the Sake of It

by Ragnar_the_Red



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Celebrations, Drinking & Talking, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Romantic Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27664214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragnar_the_Red/pseuds/Ragnar_the_Red
Summary: Even after saving his home city of Silverymoon from an ancient blue dragon and its army, human paladin Cahir can't bring himself to celebrate the party's victory, as he is too hung up on his self-perceived failures. His monk companion Aila decides to remedy this.
Relationships: Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	No Longer Suffering for the Sake of It

The celebrations of the tavern-goers were dying down, as most revelers were too drunk to go on. Durholf and Arquan were still locked in a tight-drinking game, the Triton's sheer force of pride carrying his constitution as he matched the dwarf drink for drink. Telaria was long past refereeing, as she was passed out with her head down on the table. The half-elf cleric had always been a lightweight.

Cahir finds himself abstaining from the merry-making, content to simply amuse himself by watching the rest of his friends have fun. Before he had been a paladin, celebrating after a battle had been easy. A victorious knight didn't have to search long for a free drink or a warm and willing bed partner. But those days have long since been behind him.

An open but full bottle of rum hits the table in front of him, splashing a bit. "C'mon, just hard one drink." He looks up to his right to see Aila standing there, a wishful grin on her face. "Just so  _ I  _ can say I saw you do it." The air genasi sits down at the table, and takes a swig, smacking her lips to savor the taste. "There, I got us started. Now match me, if you aren't a chicken."

He crosses his arms, not allowing a bit of teasing to jeopardize his sobriety. "You're a monk. You could drink the whole bottle and feel nothing." Conceding defeat usually ended Alia's little pokes such as this, since it rejected her natural love of competition.

But she doesn't give up this time, and he worries that she is beginning to find enjoyment in the challenge of getting him to drink. "Seriously, we just saved your hometown and you won't even take a sip? Even  _ Telaria _ is indulging, and I asked her about your oath before. And she said for a fact that it didn't forbid you from drinking."

Sighing, he takes the bottle of rum and presses it to his lips. The alcohol burns his throat, not altogether unpleasantly. He downs more than he means to, and nearly coughs the rum up. "And here I thought the  _ cleric _ was the lightweight," Alia teases, laughing at him. “The rum in Waterdeep is better, to be honest.”

"You take that back," Cahir demands, suffering himself to smile. "Waterdeep is an apt name for that city, the way they make their liquor." He gestures over to Durholf, who has just defeated Arquan in their drinking game. "Even our dwarf likes Silverymoon rum."

The genasi's face lights up, clearly pleased that he's playing along for once. "Ah, so you  _ were _ the partier back in the day then." She takes another drink of the bottle, and slides it back to him. "What changed that? Becoming a paladin? Or a really bad hangover?"

He takes another swig. "Neither, really." He hesitates for a moment, looking down at the table. Looking back up, he sees that Aila's mischievous smirk has been replaced by a look of sincere curiosity. "I never told you why I became a paladin, or why I took the Oath of Devotion. When you first asked, all the time ago, I didn't want to tell. It still hurt, and I didn't know you."

"But we've been through a lot, and even though you grate my nerves sometimes, I trust you. A lot." Cahir takes a deep breath. "I was a Knight in Silver here, perhaps five years ago now. Arrogant and brash, like so many fresh knights. I was leading a small patrol when I spotted a group of skeletons dragging a wagon with a gravestone."

"There were about thirty of them, and they had us almost three to one. I should have reported their presence or found reinforcements, but I was too eager for a fight. I charged my patrol in. It went well at first, since only half of the bone-walkers were armed."

"Then we figured out what exactly they were transporting. A banshee came screaming out of the gravestone. Half my patrol was killed by the skeletons as they dropped their weapons and shields to cover their ears. I managed to fight off the fear, and swung at her with my halberd. Didn't do much other than piss her off, as you can imagine."

“She nearly killed me. Would have, if Telaria and her master hadn’t shown up. But by the time they saved us, it was just me and two others left. They still haven’t mentally recovered from that day. Truth be told, I’m not sure I have.”

Cahir sips the rum again, and slides it over to Aila. "Before that day, I celebrated every victory with a bottle of booze and a good lay. But after getting nine of my soldiers killed, and another two scarred for life, it didn't feel like I deserved it. Why should I enjoy myself, when I robbed my men and women of their lives? And yet here I am, having a drink, when at least two hundred people died."

The monk grabs his hand, squeezing it firmly. "Stop," she demands with a serious expression, something she was rarely capable of. "Eldinkon would have attacked the city no matter what. If we hadn't been here-if  _ you _ hadn't been here, who knows how many more would have died? He might have taken the entire city."

"For as long as I've known you, you've held yourself to these impossible standards. And I'm a monk, I get that. Spiritual nirvana is a pretty lofty goal in itself. But I don't put myself down over it, not like you do to yourself. This isn't  _ healthy _ , Cahir. You have to stop making up reasons to blame yourself."

He stays quiet for a moment, and the genasi huffs. "Since the day of that patrol, how many lives have you saved? Not 'how many could you have saved', how many people are alive because you came in to help? Even without including Silverymoon, it's still in the hundreds at least. You've saved everyone in our group more than once, me included."

"You all saved me a few times," Cahir protests. Aila crosses her arms and frowns disapprovingly. He slumps back against the wall. "You're right, but...I can't just stop feeling like this overnight."

She uncrosses her arms and leans in. "And no one is expecting you to. My masters always told me the journey to inner peace is one of many steps." She raises the bottle of rum and drinks some more, wiping her mouth when she's done. "This is step one."

Aila hands him the bottle. He considers the bottle for a moment, then lifts it up in a toast. "To a new journey, then." After finishing a few gulps, he sets it back down on the table, with only a quarter of the rum left. "Speaking of that...what do you plan on doing now? Back to traveling up and down the Sword Coast?"

The genasi shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe. I'll probably stick around here for a while. Could do a lot worse for a city to stay in. Once I find something that takes my fancy, if something does, then I'll move on." She sits in contemplative silence for a bit, and begins to ask a question, but stops herself.

"What is it?" he asks inquisitively. Her light blue eyes dart towards him, but quickly shifts them away. She almost seemed...shy.  _ An extremely rare emotion for her, _ he thinks to himself. She was usually the spirit of confidence.

"Nothing, just...wondering what you would want for a reward from High Lord Methrammar." He sincerely doubts that was her original question, but he chooses not to pry. His intuition tells him she was working up the courage for something else.

"A set of mithral plate mail would be nice," Cahir replies. "Maybe a set of steel plate barding for Gwyndris." The albino griffon would no doubt appreciate that, after her close encounter with Eldinkon's razor-sharp claws. "What about you? Adamantine throwing darts? A new, magical quarterstaff?"

She smiles a bit. "I wouldn't mind getting either of those. But I don't think there's any reward Methrammar could give me that I would actually want. No physical reward really excites me, even ones that help me be better in a fight. I've only been traveling with you all for the experiences. Helping people is just a nice bonus."

Cahir nods in understanding. "I think I get what you're saying. But is there an experience you _would_ want as a reward from the High Lord?" The shy look returns, and Aila even blushes a bit this time, her light blue cheeks taking on a darker color. He can't help but feel a fuzzy feeling at the sight. "Wait, you don't want to... _bed_ _him,_ do you?"

"Not him!" she protests, hiding her face in her hands. She lightly slams a fist against the table, and briefly glances at him before averting her gaze. "Ugh, why is this so hard to say? Why did this even come up?" Realization strikes him then, and his stomach feels lighter than a feather.

"Forget it. I need to meditate and rest now anyway." The monk gets up hastily, but Cahir reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling her back towards him. She falls into his lap with a squeak, and he steadies her with a strong arm.

Aila is staring at him, her mouth agape. He searches her face, admiring the curves and softness of her beautiful skin for the first time. He rubs her thigh with his other hand, and she shudders a bit under his touch. Snorting in amusement, he leans forward and claims her mouth with his own.

After a second of shocked stillness, she responds eagerly, grasping onto his back and the scruff of his neck as she deepens the kiss. He can taste no trace of the rum on her lips, only fresh mountain air with a hint of mintiness. He moves a hand from her thigh to caress her cheek, marveling at the soft coolness of her skin.

Her shyness gone, he feels Aila's tongue stab at his own, prompting an entanglement. The mint flavor of her mouth becomes sharper, and he savors the delicious taste with a low groan. She smells like a crisp breeze, pushing away the scent of strong alcohol and sweaty patrons.

They finally break apart to take a breather. "Is that the sort of experience you were thinking of?" he asks teasingly, still panting a bit. She giggles, a light and happier sound than he has ever heard before. It was strange, how he could travel with her for over a year and not notice how much he loved her laugh until now.

She bumps her head against his. "Along the same lines, I suppose. But I'm hoping for something a bit...heartier, more lasting." She pulls back, and cocks her head jokingly. "You wouldn't be able to help me with that, would you? I fear Tamlin is already occupied upstairs, and the others are simply not to my tastes, regardless of their inebriation."

"Oh, so I'm merely Tamlin's substitute then?" Cahir jokes, though the sting of jealousy nearly makes him frown. It's a foolish feeling, and one he quickly pushes aside. "I didn't think you went for sorcerers." The aasimar had been the butt of many of Aila's jokes, mostly centered around the fact that they had been born into their magical ability.

"Don't be jealous, green looks terrible on humans." She ruffles his hair with a smug grin. "Especially with these rusty locks of yours. No, I think I'm plenty tired of having weaker bedpartners than myself." She grabs his triceps through his tunic, squeezing the muscle slowly. "I'd like this experience to be a little different."

"That can be arranged." Despite his outward projection of confidence, he feels more than a little anxious. In his five years as a paladin, he hadn't had sex once. It felt like an indulgence that would only distract him from his mission. In fact, the desire to be physically intimate had nearly disappeared completely.

Aila hops off of his lap and stands up, and he gets up with her. She takes hold of his hand, interlocking her fingers with his. The genasi gives him a smile, one filled with not just lust, but something else as well. He smiles back, and they begin walking towards the stairs leading to the inn's bedrooms.

"Aren't you going to tuck them in for the night?" she jokes as they pass by their friends' table. Durholf has joined the others in a drunken slumber, his head resting on a platter that had once been the resting place of a roast duck. The bones were scattered about, picked completely clean. "Arquan might want a bedtime story again."

Cahir chuckles. He was often the one caring for the group after a night of drinking, since he never partook beyond a single mug of beer to go with dinner. And Arquan's eagerness to hear Luruaran legends only strengthened when the triton was drunk and sleepy. "He'll have to find a book in that case. They're adults, they can manage without me for one night."

"Good," she replies as they walk up the staircase. "I'd really rather not have to share you with anyone. Besides, you'd have to carry Arquan to his bed, and then you'd come to mine smelling like fish."

They reach the door to her room, and she shoves him inside, slamming the door shut behind him. He turns, and she nearly leaps into his arms, attacking his lips with enthusiastic vigor. He picks her up by her thighs, and she wraps her legs around his waist, and her arms around his neck.

He withdraws from her mouth to move to her neck, enjoying her soft whines as he kisses and nibbles at her flesh. "Never had a lover who could hold me up like this," she remarks breathlessly. "I'm beginning to regret waiting so long."

"I didn't know you were waiting at all." After another minute of attention paid to her throat and collarbones, Cahir becomes too impatient. He sets her down to stand on her own. "I think we're both overdressed," he says, gesturing to their fully-clothed bodies. "Don't you?"

"Mm. Definitely." Aila steps forward and begins to unbutton his arming jacket, kissing him at the same time. Once she's finished, he shimmies the garment off and lets it fall to the floor. She runs her hands over his torso, biting her lip and nodding appreciatively.

"You've seen me without a shirt before," he points out. With how long they've been traveling together, it would have been impossible to avoid seeing each other in at least mild states of undress.

"That doesn't mean I no longer find your body attractive, does it?" She starts kissing her way down his chest and stomach, until she is on her knees. "Besides, I've never had the chance to examine it up close. Not like you did with me, laying your hands on me to heal my scratches."

"You never took off your clothes for-" While he was speaking, the monk undid the button on his pants and swiftly freed his cock, which was rapidly hardening. Her tentative lick on the head of his member caused him to inhale sharply.

Aila stands up, smirking. "You were saying something?" She takes his hands and guides them towards her belt. "Ah, that's right. You were saying I never took off my clothes for you. That's true. I don't want to break a streak of not doing something, so why don't you take it off yourself?"

"With pleasure." Cahir takes care of the cloth belt, and lifts the tunic up and off of her, leaving her in just her chest bindings and gray pants. He grabs the chest bindings and rips them off, destroying the cheap garment in the process. "You always said you never cared for material possessions," he says in reply to her shocked expression.

She recovers quickly, her surprise turning into a devious grin. "So I did. I don't think I meant practical things like clothes, though." He chuckles, and unknots the drawstrings on her pants, pushing them down to her ankles. Aila kicks off her shoes and pants, leaving her completely naked.

"I'll buy you new ones," he murmurs, pulling her in for a kiss. Her body presses up against his, and her soft breasts feel nice against his bare skin. His cock is pushed against her stomach, and he moans into her mouth when she begins to gently stroke it.

Aware that he won't last long himself, Cahir makes a tactical decision. He picks Aila up once more, carrying her over to the bed. "The look on your face says you have plans for me," she says observingly. "I hope the first step involves getting your pants and boots off."

"Not quite yet." He gently sets her down on the bed horizontally, so her legs are dangling off the side. He steps back, and takes a moment to drink in the sight of her nude body. The moonlight coming through the window illuminates her well, enhancing the radiance of her skin, and her shoulder-length, pretty silver hair, which is free of the knot it's usually kept in.

Like most adventuring monks, her muscles are quite lean, and her stomach is flat and defined. Her legs are long and strong, as he always knew them to be from watching her fight. Scars crisscross her body; most of them old, from before their meeting. His attentive healing saw most of her more recent injuries quickly convalesce, without scarred tissue.

It was funny now, thinking about it. He had never paid it much mind before, but Aila always seemed to seek him out for medical attention when she had the choice. _Despite Telaria being the better healer_. He had figured it was his superior bedside manner. _Technically, it **was**_ _my superior bedside manner_.

The genasi shifts on the bed, growing shy under his unyielding gaze. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?" she asks. She's trying to sound nonchalant and a little amused, but he can detect the self-doubt as well.

"I am having second thoughts, but they're rather similar to the first ones." She laughs, sounding a bit relieved. " _Dar an ghealach,_ you're so beautiful Aila." He gets on his knees before her, parting her legs to reveal her core, which is a darker blue than the surrounding skin.

Cahir gently kisses up the inside of her right leg, his heart hammering as he does his best to keep his movements smooth and calm. He reaches her thigh, nibbling and dragging his tongue across the impossibly smooth skin. He teases her like that for some time, enjoying the sound of her whimpering.

"Cahir, please." He glances up to see her biting her lip, and her eyes begging him to deny her no longer. Not breaking eye contact, he wraps his arm around her leg, and slowly leans in towards her core. Finally, he gives her clit a slow lick, eliciting a deep exhale from her.

The taste here is similar to the one he found in her mouth, only sharper and sweeter. Each stroke of his tongue is a bit longer and harder than the last, but not by too much, as he remembers things such as these are not to be rushed.

Aila begins to writhe on the bed a little, pressing her hands down into the linen sheets. Sensing that she was ready, he gently rubs circles on her clit with two fingers, still lapping at her at the same time. She hisses in pleasure, and a hand shoots out to grasp his head and pulls it closer to her heat.

Chuckling into her folds, he puts far more force into his ministrations. He spells his name on her with his tongue, claiming her, if only for tonight. After that, he licks every which-way, continuing to stimulate her with his fingers.

She curses and moans, grasping his scalp with both hands. Her legs wrap around his neck, and he feels her beginning to shake. Her moans grow in pitch until they turn to screaming, a sound that's a bit reminiscent of a howling winter wind.

Her climax finishes, and she releases him from the grasp of her limbs as she goes limp on the bed, breathing heavily. Cahir gasps for air, standing up so he can breathe more easily. He takes a moment to appreciate the content look on his new lover's face, and he realizes how much he missed this. He wonders if it's all just because of her.

"Wow," Aila says breathlessly, laughing. "No offense, but you were one of the last people I would've expected to be good at that. Not that I thought you'd be a selfish lover or anything, just...I didn't expect you to even know about the act of pleasuring a woman with your mouth."

Cahir sits down on the bed next to her, and begins prying off his boots. "When you grow up in a city full of elves as a hot-blooded young man, you tend to learn a few things about sex. Have to, in order to stay ahead of the competition." He finishes removing his boots, and takes off his pants as well.

He turns to her and cocks an eyebrow. "My question is; why should a monk have so much experience with lovemaking? I thought the Whispering Way would frown on those who indulged in worldly pleasures."

She sits up and scoots over so that she's leaning against him. "It was never expressly forbidden. We're allowed to have romantic attachments, after all. Some of the _perfecti_ monks frowned upon 'fornication', saying it prevented us from achieving pleasure of the spirit. Frankly, I found that to be a load of shit."

Aila swings her legs over to straddle him, and wraps her arms around his neck. "I can see that," he replies with an eager smile. Gripping her by the buttocks, he stands up and walks them both over to the door.

"Always on the move," she murmurs into his ear teasingly. He silences her by bumping her against the door, eliciting an 'oof' from the genasi. "Are you really going to fuck me against the door?" He grunts affirmatively. "I had no idea a white knight like you could have such a naughty streak."

"I think you just bring it out in me." Cahir looks down to consider the logistics. "Hold on to my shoulders tight," he commands. She does just that, and he adjusts his grip on her so he can more easily guide his member into her heat.

She winces as he slowly enters her, and he cannot suppress the groan that escapes his lips, nor does he try to. She feels heavenly around him, tight and slick. A wave of pleasure washes over his body, a sensation he has gone far too long without feeling.

He resists the urge to begin rutting into her, and instead waits for her to get used to the feeling. "Move," she tells him after a couple of moments. He gladly obeys, thrusting softly to the rhythm of their slow but strained breathing.

As he gradually increases his pace, he pays some attention to the other parts of her body, kissing and nibbling from her breasts to her neck. She takes his face in her hands and tilts his head up, passionately kissing him. She grasps at him, trying to pull him closer, impossible as it is.

Cahir wants to be closer to her too. He wants to make her part of himself, as she wants to make him part of herself. They are both frustrated, their lust not yet sated. Their kiss deepens as far as it possibly can, and he begins to thrust wildly. 

Every time he slams into her, the door _thuds_ loudly. A small part of him wonders if the door could be knocked off its hinges. No part of him could be brought to care if it was. Lugh himself could clamber in through the window, and he doubted he would give his god a second glance.

"Faster, give me more," Aila begs, her mouth pulled just inches away from his own. "I'm so close." She tilts her head down to rest on his shoulder, so she doesn't bump it against the hardwood. Cahir fucks her as fast as he can, and feels himself starting to sweat.

She tightens around him, and the monk screams into his shoulder, biting and scratching as a second orgasm overtakes her. The tension in his stomach is becoming unbearable, and he knows his climax isn't far behind. "Fuck Aila, I'm going to cum," he warns her.

"Don't you dare stop Cahir," she growls at him. She lifts her head up, staring at him with lust-lidded eyes. "Come for me. I want all of it." The hair on his arms tingles at that, and the pressure in his groin can't be contained.

He holds back no longer, gasping loudly as he finishes inside her. He rests his head against her chest, both of them panting for air. After taking a few moments to recover, he pulls out of her and sets her on the ground, keeping both of them steady with one hand on the door frame and the other on the small of her back.

Aila grins up at him and kisses him lazily. This kiss feels much more intimate than the previous one, soft and tender instead of forceful and needy. He returns the kiss, much enjoying the slightly different sensation. A few moments later, they pull away, with both of them still smiling. "Did you treat all your elven lovers to that level of passion?" she asks.

Cahir laughs and shakes his head. "No, not a single one. They tended not to like rough sex. They regarded it as 'bestial', and even 'orc-like'. I admit I thought I was getting a bit carried away with you, but you seemed to be enjoying it."

"Indeed I was. Like I said earlier, I'm tired of having lovers weaker than me." She traces his arms, squeezing at his triceps. "I've never had someone do anything like that before. Though next time, I wouldn't be opposed to something more...sensual. I'll show you what I wanted to do to you every time you put your hands on me to heal my wounds."

_ Next time _ . Those two words sent butterflies into his stomach. "I was under the impression that this was a one-time thing," he confesses. Her brow furrows in worry, and her lips part slightly.

"Do you want it to be? If you do, I understand, I was just hoping...you probably have feelings for Telaria, and..." She rambles on, her face darkening with embarrassment and despair. It catches him off guard, seeing such a strong, confident person fall victim to insecurity and doubt. In truth, it breaks his heart.

He takes her calloused hands, and kisses the knuckles of both. "Telaria is my best friend, and nothing more. I don't want this to be a one-time thing, or for it to be just sex. I don't know what will happen to the group after the High Lord rewards us, but I'd like to see where this takes us, if you think you can make room for me in your life."

She lets out a halting laugh, and squeezes his hands. "Funny, I was wondering if you'd have room for _me_ in your life, being a knight with a manor to inherit, marriage prospects to consider." Aila looks at the ground for a second, then back up at him. "Are you going to stay here? With your parents?"

"I will, for a couple of weeks at the least. Before we came to the Silver Marches for the first time, it had been two years since I last saw them, and I doubt my letters were a good enough substitute for my presence." He cocks her head at her, taking a guess as to why she might ask after his parents. "If you're worried they wouldn't approve, don't be. My parents used to be commoners, remember? They didn't marry out for financial or political gain."

In an instant, the Aila he knows is back, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Who said anything about marriage? I just want to regale the teenage girls at the monastery with my spring-to-summer romance with a paladin of the North." It gets a chuckle from the both of them, and she glances down at her groin. "I should clean up. You certainly haven't been _relieving_ yourself these past five years."

He grunts. "You aren't worried about becoming pregnant?" It probably hadn't been a problem for her in the past; humans were the only other race genasi could breed with. She shakes her head, seemingly indifferent.

"No. Genasi fertility is very...environmentally influenced. We'd need to be outside, preferably at a higher altitude. Inside a warm bedroom, at one thousand feet? Not a chance." They clean up with some cloths next to the washbasin in the corner of the room, which was full of rosewater. Cahir wipes away the sweat with the cool damp cloth; unnecessary for Aila, since genasi lack skin pores, just like full-blooded elves.

Once they finish, they climb into her bed. Cahir throws the covers over both of them, and she snuggles up next to him, nestling her head in the crook of his shoulder and throwing an arm across his waist. He inhales her pleasant scent, and rubs her shoulder. "Good night Aila," he says, kissing the top of her head.

He feels her lips brush against his neck as she returns the gesture. "Good night Cahir."

* * *

His sleep is dreamless; something he has come to be thankful for. Too often his dreams were filled with visions of failure, of his past mistakes. But to his satisfaction, there is nothing but blissful darkness between the time he falls asleep to the time he wakes.

Feeling no one pressed against his side, he looks over to see that Aila is not in the bed. The smell of frankincense caresses his nose, and the light creaking of the wood floor grabs his attention, and he turns over to discern the source of the sound.

The monk is in a pose that seems to be a stretch; she is facing down with her arms outstretched and palms flat on the floor. Her left leg is bent, her foot resting not far behind her left palm. Her right leg is fully extended. And she is still completely naked.

Cahir says nothing, content to just watch her. It almost felt _scandalous_ ; a ridiculous feeling, considering the circumstances. It wasn't as if he could bring himself to look away either. She is the picture of bodily perfection, beautiful both sexually and artistically.

She goes through a series of more stretches before switching to strength exercises, seeming not to notice that he was awake. Finally, as she does a hundred-and-fifth push-up, she glances over and sees him watching her. "Enjoying the show?" Her grin and total lack of surprise makes him realize she was aware all along.

"Yes, though I suspect that was your motive this whole time. Unless you normally exercise in the nude, and I simply haven't had the good fortune to notice." That gets a laugh from her, while she continues her push-ups.

"Maybe I just didn't feel like getting dressed, just to do my morning exercises?" Aila stops, and walks her hands backwards until her legs are standing again. He snorts, and his eyes drift down to her chest. "Ah, to the hells with it," she declares, walking over to the bed. "It's too early in the morning for games, even for me."

She tosses the covers aside, and smirks when she sees that he is already erect. She clambers onto the bed, straddling his hips and placing her hands on his chest. Slowly, she lowers herself onto his cock, and they both moan as she takes him to the hilt. Her heat is incredibly slick, given the lack of foreplay.

"Seems like you've been thinking about this since the moment you woke up," he teases her. Aila shrugs with an innocent look, then removes her hands from his chest, sitting up straight. She lifts herself up, then comes back down at a gradual pace.

As he watches her ride him, clutching her thighs with his hands, Cahir cannot keep the dopey smile off of his face. He feels strangely happy, unburdened. He feels all the muck sullying his soul wash away, all the buried guilt and self-anger dissipating. He knows this bliss may not survive even the morning, but he doesn't worry about that now. For the first time in forever, nothing worries him.

Aila leans down to kiss him, and he lifts his head and neck up to meet her. Their lips meet languidly, each of them content to take their time. He caresses her neck and the side of her face with a hand, then runs a finger on the underside of a pointed ear.

Cahir sits up and wraps his arms around her, and begins to move. The genasi throws her head back, moaning in ecstasy. Their mouths now parted, he tilts his head down to her breasts and captures a nipple between his lips, causing her to moan even louder.

Suckling and nibbling at her while he continues to thrust, she begins to climax, trembling and quaking uncontrollably. Her walls tighten around him, and he feels his own release coming on. When Aila screams for the last time, he shouts his own pleasure along with her, spilling his seed inside her.

They don't extract themselves from the other right away, instead embracing each other in a tangle of limbs. After a while, Aila lifts her head from his shoulder, smiling. They kiss again, tender and caring. Cahir pushes aside a few wayward strands of hair blocking her face.

"I love you," he confesses earnestly. "It isn't too early to say that, is it?" Her eyes flash with shock, and his heart skips a few beats in his brief moment of panic. But the shock soon retreats, replaced by joy.

"No, it isn't. I love you too, you big shiny softy." She pecks him on the lips to seal the declaration. Chaste but no less filling than the rest of their kisses. She then pulls herself away from his cock, then pulls them both down to lay on the bed. "Let's just lay here a while, pretend we don't have a stuffy noble banquet to go to."

"Good idea," Cahir replies with a hum. "I think we may have woken up the whole inn anyway, and I'm in no mood to deal with our grumpy, hungover friends." No, right now he just wanted to pretend that he and Aila were the only two people around.

She sighs contentedly, resting her head on his chest. He rubs his hand up and down her spine while looking over her nude body laying against him. He grins, thinking about how many times he's going to do this again. For once, his hopes and his reality are the same thing.

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone is curious, Aila is a Kensei Monk; she specializes in the quarterstaff, longbow, darts, longsword, and morningstar. Durholf is a Battle Master, Arquan is a Swashbuckler Rogue, Telaria is a Life Cleric, and Tamlin is a Divine Soul Sorcerer.
> 
> I'm really supposed to be working on my TDP story, but I hit a bit of a block, and then had this idea force itself into my head. Felt like I needed to get it out before I could work on my actual story.
> 
> If this picks up some interest, I might put out some other one-shots about this party. Won't be doing any multi-chapter stories, though.


End file.
